This script comprises two monologues. Both acts take place in a bedroom: queen-sized bed.
Act One takes place the day after Act Two; this will be apparent in context.
Act One: Final Offer
(Jim is siting on the bed as he speaks)
I knew I'd be tormented had Diana died un-saved--which is, of course, why I did what I could to save her. Boy, did I sweat it out! Finally--with her very last three breaths--she gasped the magic words: Forgive...Me...Jesus.
Then--no breath left--she mouthed, to me: Thank you. Then she died. It was a miracle--praise the Lord! That, Diana--a lifelong atheist--in the end, the very end, accepted Jesus. I wept with joy--which tears trumped the ones shed in sorrow.
It wasn't until the next day that it hit me--and what a sucker punch it was. I've been in agony ever since. The pain of losing Diana is over-shadowed by this, the shadow--more than a shadow--of doubt. That is--how can I be certain that her conversion was genuine?
How do I know that Diana hadn't staged the scene--her final act--by way of bringing comfort to me? I used to say--pseudo-jokingly--that I would "get to her on her death-bed." We would both chuckle, but surely she sensed my unease. After all, Diana well knew--from these ten years of fruitless attempts to get her to see The Light--that Christ is paramount in my life. That--whatever the question--Christ is the Answer. Simple as that--all you have to do is get on board. Just say: Jesus, count me in. P.S. Sorry for screwing up--I'll try to do better--thanks for your understanding.
Diana would "get it"--in the sense of "point taken"--but she wouldn't "get it." That is, she remained utterly unconvinced by my argument for Christ. As Diana saw it--in all fairness, the way I saw it before my conversion ten years ago (thirty-two years into our marriage)--the Bible was just a bunch of stories some people wrote way back when.
There was no use trying to get her to accept Jesus--that said, I kept trying to get her to accept Jesus. Not all the time, of course, but off and on, once in a while. Mainly, I would witness to other people, in a kind of casual way, knowing Diana was in earshot. In good conscience--as a Christian--I couldn't simply give up on her.
One time she got irritated by my soap-boxing and said, snidely: Doesn't it bother you that this loving God of yours will be shipping your wife off to Hell?
I snapped at her: Of course, it bothers me! It torments me. I pray about it daily. I pray that Jesus will somehow find a way--a way I haven't been able to find--to bring you to Him, before it's too late, before you die."
She died. Died just last night. With a wordless message to me, after a stage-whisper to Jesus, she died. With a smile on her lips, she died. The question is: Why the smile, and who was it for? For me: for having brought her to eternal rest in Jesus? Or for herself, for having made me think so?
Act Two: At Tunnel's End
(One day earlier: Diana lies in bed, eyes closed; Jim sits beside her, holding her hand)
Diana's recorded voice:
It's true what they say: you do see a "brilliant, blinding light"--so trite to repeat--for which "words fail to do justice." The question is: does science explain the light--as the brain's neural battalion firing fiercely in a final, desperate defense before death--as I've always assumed? Or could it really be the beacon of entry into eternal life--just as Jim's tried to convince me these past ten years of our marriage?
I'll know soon enough. I should say: if Jim's right, I'll know soon enough. If I'm right, there will no longer be an "I" to know anything. A big disappointment we atheists have after death: with consciousness so unceremoniously snuffed out, we won't enjoy the satisfaction of being able to say to the Christians: Told you so!
Jim. Poor Jim. Such pain on his face. Forty-two years of marriage--a marriage that has prevailed despite the challenging circumstances of the past ten years. Good thing the kids were long grown when Jim became "Born Again"; otherwise, his conversion would have posed an agonizing dilemma, for sure: we couldn't possibly have reconciled our differences as regards how to rear them.
As it was, I mainly just tuned Jim out when he got to preaching. "Witnessing," the Christians call it. And--irritating as it can be--I totally understand that they are only doing what they are compelled to do. After all, if you saw smoke and feared flames were about to engulf a house, you'd pound on the windows and scream for everyone to get out. Just as Jim was simply doing his duty as a decent person--his being Christian notwithstanding--to try to save me from the Fires of Hell.
And Hell for him, surely it's been these past ten years. And, surely it will be so--even more so--after my death, his knowing that I died "un-saved." So, as my last, conscious act, I will spare him this torment: I will, in this my grand finale, speak those words he's longed--for so long--to hear from my lips: Forgive...Me...Jesus.
Ditto to Jesus. Just in case.
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Author Notes
Thanks to photosbyJulie for artwork: Green Tunnel
The theme here is reminiscent of my piece "Believe It or Not" which also features
a Christian/atheist pair (wife/husband respectively in that case). Religious torment has been the defining theme of my own life, as recounted in "Holy Terror"--my first posting on Fanstory.
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